


When We Met In Paris

by TheVagabondBoy



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Chance Meetings, Developing Relationship, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotions, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-03-07 13:24:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18874078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheVagabondBoy/pseuds/TheVagabondBoy
Summary: Neither Tony nor Bucky expected to run into each other in a bar in Paris.





	When We Met In Paris

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starxreactor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starxreactor/gifts).



> Prompt:  
> Secret relationship post-CW, somehow they meet up and grow closer, and begin a relationship. They don't want Steve to know because they think he'll be upset. Somehow, the truth comes out. No bashing, please.
> 
> I hope I did good and that it's not too short! But y'know, short and sweet is always a treat! <3

The last person Tony expected to run into in a smoky bar in a Parisian back-alley was _Bucky Barnes._

And yet, here they were, staring at each other like a pair of deer in headlights.

They’d been heading in different directions, both too wrapped up in their own heads to look where they were going, and bumped shoulders with each other, stumbling around one another for a moment before realizing who they just ran into.

For once in his life, Tony’s brain was at a mild stand-still. He wasn’t sure how to act, or react, in this situation. It had been a few months since Siberia; he had talked to Steve on the phone a few times and things had become relatively amicable. Of course, it took several screaming matches and a lot of hanging up on each other, but things had become sort of civil.

Tony had asked about Bucky a few times and only been told that Bucky was alright, he was okay, recovering just fine, but nothing more.

So imagine his surprise, meeting the man himself in Paris.

Thankfully, Bucky was first to act.

He cleared his throat awkwardly and ran his fingers through his long hair, eyes cast down and away.

“So…you wanna share a table?”

It took Tony another moment to really wrap his brain around things, before he nodded. Bucky nodded too. He started moving. Tony followed. They crossed the small bar to the back, where Bucky took a seat in a booth. Tony sat down across from him.

They sat quietly until a waitress came over. They both ordered and she was on her way again.

“Uh, so…how are you?” Tony asked politely. “How are things? What’re you up to in Paris?”

Bucky’s fingers tapped absently at the tabletop. “I’m good. I guess. Just passin’ through, really. I’m, uh… Guess I’m still just tryin’ to figure out my memories.”

Tony hummed. “How’s it going? I mean, the hunt for memories?”

“Pretty good. Things are gettin’ more clear by the day, I think. T’Challa set me up with some doctors in Wakanda, they been real helpful too.”

Tony smiled. “That’s good. I’m happy for you,” he said. “Really. I am.”

A small smile poured onto Bucky’s lips too. “Thanks. And, uh- And you? I mean, what’s goin’ on with you?”

Tony leaned back, breathing out a deep sigh. “Eh, y’know, the usual stuff. Politicians’re up my ass, the company’s up my ass, girlfriend dumped me. Same old, same old.”

The waitress breezed by, placing two glasses and a bottle of whiskey on the table for them.

“That’s rough, man,” Bucky said.

He shrugged his leather jacket off then grabbed the bottle. It took him an extra moment with the cap, probably still not quite used to having one hand, but he unscrewed it in the end. He poured them both a generous drink.

“Mind if I ask why she dumped ya?” he asked as he grabbed one of the glasses. “Somethin’ happen?”

The genius sighed again. He took a sip of his own drink.

“I dunno. We’ve been like this for a couple years, I guess. On and off. Things never really work out between us, but damn it all if we don’t keep trying.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Bucky said, chancing a grin as he raised his glass.

Tony had to snort. Their glasses met with a clink, the whiskey sloshing,

The night deteriorated from there.

One minute they were throwing back whiskeys in the bar; the next, they were staggering half-tipsy through the streets in search of pizza. How a supersoldier like Bucky ended up even _slightly_  tipsy might have had something to do with him claiming to  be unable to get drunk and Tony subsequently betting a meal that Bucky couldn’t chug what remained of their second bottle of whiskey (which they had only managed to pour a drink each from, at the time). And of course, Bucky was not one to back down from a bet, so things _happened_ and an hour later they were sitting on a curb in front of a pizza place with a few slices each.

Thankfully, Bucky sobered up pretty fast, so they weren’t completely lost in the sauce. With some goading, he managed to drag it out of Tony where he was staying, what the address was, how to get there. Still, he had to almost carry the man the last few block to the upscale apartment building.

Bucky tucked Tony into bed then passed out on the couch.

*

They went out for breakfast the next day.

They sat together in the shade at an open-air cafe in a small park. The conversation was pleasant between them. The air seemed _clear._

All the conflict of Siberia and what came before seemed as if removed from their past. In the time since then, they had both forgiven and all but forgotten.

Bucky asked about the Suits as they ate, and Tony was honestly surprised to hear genuine interest and curiosity in the question.

So he talked about them.

He talked about the technology behind them, how they had developed and grown, the technological breakthroughs he had had while making them, the idea he’d been working on with nanites.

But he also talked about how they came to be. The words seemed to just fall out of him. He talked about Afghanistan, and the Ten Rings, about Yinsen, Obadiah, everything. About Hammer and Vanko, then the Mandarin and Killian and Extremis. The words didn’t stop coming.

Bucky talked, too.

He talked about everything he remembered from before everything happened, and about his time with HYDRA, and the fall of SHIELD and Steve breaking through the programming, things coming back to him in bits and pieces, puzzling everything together as best he could, travelling all over the world in search of clues to help his memory along.

They listened, the both of them. Really. They _really_  listened. More than that, they _heard._

At least for Tony, it somehow felt like it was the first time someone had actually _heard_  him out when he talked about these things.

They walked around the city. They walked aimlessly side by side.

Their hands brushed now and then, but they both tried not to think about it. About how nice it would be to hold someone’s, _anyone’s,_  hand.

Quite by chance, they stumbled upon the pizza place from the night before and decided to have lunch there. This time, though, they sat _inside_  the actual restaurant as opposed to the curb out front.

They smiled at each other. All the time. They couldn’t help it. At first it was maybe a polite reflex, but then… In no time at all, it seemed like the most natural thing to do. Why _wouldn’t_  they smile when they looked at each other?

There was something between them. An understanding, perhaps. An understanding of each other’s past and the horrible memories that came with that past, and an acceptance of it. An understanding of the fact that their trauma didn’t define them; the way they carried on after it did.

Perhaps that was what made things so easy between them. They were, in so many ways, the same.

Broken and lost and confused and betrayed, but still standing.

*

“You wanna come inside?”

They stood on the doorstep of Tony’s apartment. The sun was on the horizon. It was the end of the day, but Tony didn’t quite want it to be over yet.

Bucky scratched at the back of his head, weighing on his heels. “I dunno… Don’t wanna intrude, or nothin’. Guessin’ you’re probably kinda sick’a me by now.”

Tony smiled at the self-deprecating humor, but shook his head. “No. I’m not. I was actually kinda thinkin’ I’d love to order somethin’ in and have some company for dinner.”

“Company, eh? Well, then I _definitely_  don’t wanna intrude,” Bucky said, grinning then.

Tony rolled his eyes. _“You’re_  the company, James.”

 _“Me?”_  Bucky said, playing at being shocked by the revelation. “Lil’ ol’ me? Well, I’m flattered, I gotta say.”

Tony gave him a light and playful shove, laughing. “Are you coming in or not?”

Bucky followed him inside.

*

Tony woke up when his phone pinged.

He groaned at the shrill noise and his bedmate concurred. Bucky’s arm wrapped just a little tighter around him, begging him not to move.

 _But_  Tony knew very well how important the message could be, so he unearthed himself from beneath the covers and felt around blindly for the nightstand. Finally, he found his phone and squinted at the unnaturally bright screen.

A text from Steve? That’s new. Steve had never really _texted_  him before.

He tapped the alert.

The messaging app opened. Tony was faced with a slightly grainy image of an even grainier image on what looked like a tabloid website.

Wait.

That was _him._  And Bucky?

That was a picture of _them_  going into the apartment building last night.

The headline was not very flattering, and _certainly_  not worth repeating.

The phone vibrated in his hand as Steve sent another message.

 

****_Steve: ?????????????_ ** **

 

Bucky grunted behind him, nuzzling his face into Tony’s neck. “Superhero time?” he mumbled.

Tony turned off the sound on the phone, then tossed it back onto the nightstand. He rolled over onto his other side under Bucky’s arm. He snuggled up closer to Bucky’s wide chest.

“Nope. It’s cuddling time.”

Bucky pulled the covers up a little higher, tucking them both back in.

“Sounds good to me.”

Yup, it sure did sound good to Tony, too.


End file.
